


Something to Hold

by alynwa



Series: Song Stories [33]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 11:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11207520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: The prompt is Billy Joel's "Baby Grand."  Lyrics follow the story.





	Something to Hold

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt is Billy Joel's "Baby Grand." Lyrics follow the story.

Napoleon had come to Illya's building at the Russian's invitation for drinks. They had been partners for five months now and the CEA had to admit, they made a good team. They seemed to be in each other's heads, knowing what the other would do while on missions. That sense of simpatico already had them on track to becoming North America's most successful team.

He was just about to knock on Illya's door when the sound of a guitar began to reach him. He could tell it was live and not a record. _I didn't know Illya played guitar,_ he thought. Since he was alone in the hallway, he lowered his hand and listened.

Illya was playing something that sounded like a jazz selection, but he wasn't sure. When he finished that, it sounded like he was trying to figure out how to play _The Girl from Ipanema._ He stood there for about ten minutes longer and then he knocked.

"Napoleon!" Illya exclaimed as he opened the door a moment or two later and stepped aside to allow his partner access to his home, "I was starting to wonder why you were late."

"I've been standing outside your door listening to you playâ€¦" Napoleon looked around the apartment. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"Don't play coy with me, sneaky Russian! I distinctly heard you playing a guitar! Come on, let me see!"

"Fine, but please do not make fun of it," he said before going to his coat closet and removing a worn, scuffed up looking guitar case. He opened it and removed a guitar that had obviously seen better days. It was covered in scratches and up along the neck, it was chipped in a couple of places. The strings however, were new and the instrument's wood was burnished to a soft glow. Illya stroked it lovingly. "I have owned this guitar since I left Kiev. I bought it at a secondhand store while I was attending the Sorbonne. One of my classmates taught me some basic chords and I taught myself after that."

"Well, I admit that it's a little beat up, but from what I could hear, you play it rather well. Why did you hide it and why would you think I would make fun of it?" He was surprised when the blond's fair skin began to turn red.

"I was very lonely while I was getting my education in France and England. When I left the State School in Russia, what few friends I had were gone. We were not told where our classmates were sent. All I knew was that none of them were with me. I have already told you that I was unable to socialize regularly because my funds were extremely limited." *

"Yes, I remember."

"One day, I walked past a thrift shop and saw this in the window. On impulse, I entered and inquired about it. I was told that I could buy it for fifty - six hundred francs; at the time, that came out to about sixteen American dollars. I gave the clerk the twenty francs I had in my pocket and asked him to hold it for me. I came back every week with money until I paid for the guitar. I guess he felt sorry for me because he threw in the case for free." He laid it gently back into its case. "This guitar has been with me ever since. It is my constant; people have come and gone, I have been home alone well and ill, and I have been all around the world, but when I come home, this guitar is there. I have enough money now to buy a new, never - owned guitar, but this one, this one was there for me and I just cannot see myself parting with it." He looked at Napoleon with defiance in his eyes. "I know that all sounds like sentimental claptrap, but I could depend on it when I could not and would not depend on anything or anyone else."

Napoleon nodded his understanding. "I get it. That guitar represents stability to you. And home."

"I guess it does."

"Okay, then. I'm here for drinks; let's have drinks. I'm starting to feel like a pizza. Why don't you call Giuseppe's and order a Sicilian?"

The Russian smiled. "That sounds like a very good idea." He went to his fridge and got the pizzeria's number he kept taped to it. "Just so you know, Napoleon, I have begun to think of you as a constant in my life, too."

"May I last as long as your guitar."

*ref. to my tale "A Simple Gift"

**Author's Note:**

> Baby Grand
> 
> Late at night  
> When it's dark and cold  
> I reach out  
> For someone to hold  
> When I'm blue  
> When I'm lonely  
> She comes through  
> She's the only one who can  
> My baby grand  
> Is all I need  
> In my time  
> I've wandered everywhere  
> Around this world  
> She would always be there  
> Any day  
> Any hour  
> All it takes  
> Is the power in my hands  
> This baby grand's  
> Been good to me  
> I've had friends  
> But they have slipped away  
> I've had fame  
> But it doesn't stay  
> I've made fortunes  
> Spent them fast enough  
> As for woman  
> They don't last with just one man  
> But baby grand  
> Will stand by me  
> They say that no one's gonna play this on the radio  
> They said the melancholy blues were dead and gone  
> But only songs like these  
> Played in minor keys  
> Keep those memories holding on  
> I've come far  
> From the life I've strayed in  
> I've got scars  
> From those dives I've played in  
> Now I'm home  
> And I'm weary  
> In my bones  
> Every dreary one night stand  
> But baby grand  
> Came home with me  
> Ever since this gig began  
> My baby grand's  
> Been good to me


End file.
